Tag Archives: love

Descending The Stairway

Tossing and turning the woman spun around in bed wrapping the sheets tightly around her body.  The strength of her loneliness exposing itself in the fetal position her body took as tears welled up in closed eyes.
That day the sun was shining through the stained glass windows, reflecting off the porticos and arches of the church. Mom helping me dress, hair and makeup.  I remember her hands shaking slightly as she looped each tiny satin button into the corresponding loop, tying me into my lace and satin gown.  The sun gathered around my hanging locks, framing my face like a halo. My lips glistening red as my mom touched them up. “You’re magnificent” she said.  The shoes strapped snugly at my ankles, deep red toenails delicately expressing my feet as a thin gold anklet glistened around the edge of my strap.
The woman staring at me in the mirror was radiant. Her life a pinnacle of beauty intertwined in love and expectation. Today she was going to marry her one and only Brian. The struggles, the love they have shared. It seemed so short a time they stood near here watching her mom weep as her father was buried right here, this church. They had decided to hold of the wedding while everyone mourned. He had work so hard to fill that hole left by her father. Her mom, just now able to enjoy life. Today was their day to rejoice! She moved her hand to her chest lightly as a small skipped beat escaped her heart. The woman in the mirror slowly let a smile spread on her face.
The windows in the bedroom already dark with evening, began to stain with droplets of rain, cascading one drop growing in length and strength as more overtook the window. The mild weather of late fall was trying to fight the impending cold of Winter. Transparency reduced to dark translucent curls and waves of water. The red moon lit up the reflection as red drops trickled down the glossy pane.
“I think you’re ready honey” Bethany’s mom said, she motioned and exclaimed to her sister in the room. Betsy looked up and her breath was caught up “Oh Bethany!” she said “The sun on your face, you’re radiant.” She felt a lump form in her throat at that moment “Am I?” she quietly asked catching herself short and choking up a bit. “Oh no honey” mom quickly jumped in “Don’t cry! Your makeup, you look absolutely gorgeous. “I’m trying mom” a tear slipped past her eye, and gathered steam while it made its way down her cheek. “It’s just that I’ve waited so long for today. I so wish Dad could be here.” No one answered or said much after. Her mom looked down, and they both noticed her cheeks reddened.  “He, he would have loved nothing more than to see is eldest daughter marry the love of her life.” She barely finished, and her voice cracked and faded off into silence.
The woman turned back the other way, a peal of lightning lit up the room.  Her eyes didn’t open, but her body literally jumped. Unknown to her some of that light appeared to fill the room. It moved slowly lightly moving about the bed, almost holding on to the person fitfully sleeping in it. After a time it metastasized around the feeble figure, wrapping her in the small wooden bed.
He stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking out into the immaculate gardens of the church.  His baby blue tuxedo, perfectly pressed, cumberbund attached at his back, jacket hiding the slight sweat beginning to over come the small of his back. These last few months had been brutal on both his emotions and his health. Bethany hadn’t suspected such, but the stress of being the paternal leader had wreaked havoc on him. He noticed the fire of the sun had mixed with heavy dark clouds turning the sky into a surreal orange and amber likely to overtake the white light encompassing the beautiful white porticos of his beloved Cathedral.
He noticed that though the suit was tailored to him that he seemed uncomfortable, that familiar knot was forming in his neck. It encompassed his body almost as if a rope was binding him and something, or someone was pulling it tighter around him. Not that the suit was tight, but that he was tightening in it. As the windows dimmed, the white light slowly merged to a glow of amber and fire, he stared out the window trying to will the pain away.
The wind was howling outside, starting to overtake the confines of nature and its binding to the earth.  Leaves once attached were losing connection to their branches, gravel stones were spinning in small rotating fashion flying like saucers and throwing debris beyond their original plot of land.
Betsy moved to the edge of the room and with a light flourish opened one of the double doors, holding it with the base of her elbow, she stood stolid against the door, heaving a bit to leave a enough room for the fading light to shine in. Her mom moved behind to help with Bethany’s dress. She grabbed and bustled the train in her arms to help the glowing bride enter the cliff of the stair case.
Bethany took the first step toward the door being held open by Betsy, her mom followed behind as she constantly fought with the lace and statin from escaping her manicured fingers. The dress fought her, it tried to take hold of every perceived hook or knob on the way out of the room. She stepped gingerly at first, making sure her mom was ready behind her, and slowly gained confidence on the white and black shoes, the chunky heel provided some stability as each foot placed itself in front of the other, slowing taking her toward the steps, below which stood her love.
The wind roared and spun around the old home which held a barely sleeping occupant.  The old oak had fared for nearly a hundred years of storms, rain, floods, and sordid cold. Nothing had moved the mighty layers of wood which bore its age in rings wrapped by thick spindly bark. The exterior now curled and gnarled around the ancient tree seemed like a thin layer exposing a skin too fair for the storm. The weather began to turn to a bitter chill where a sudden front transformed the rain into liquid glass. A thin layer forming on all parts of the land, a liquid that grabbed hold of its charge and held tight while layering acute drops into a thickening bond.
Betsy waited about 30 seconds at the door, she was able to see both Brian at the bottom of the stairs while watching Bethany make her way to the landing.  Brian turned when he heard the light click of each heel connecting with the ancient oak floor.  Betsy watched expectantly as his face lit in expectation of seeing his bride walk down those glorious stairs. He smiled wide, seemed to grimace for the smallest second, and then in a large breath his eyes widened and he gleamed directly at Bethany the second she caught his eye.
She made her way to the edge of the landing and stopped to catch her breath. Before descending she need to stabilize all of herself from her shoes to her now shaky hands. She willed herself not to cry as she lifted her foot and moved it down toward the first step.  His stance exuded confidence and longing as he stared first toward Bethany and slightly unexpectedly moved to stare back out the window, the action though subtle was meant to be what appeared to Bethany as the last time she would stare at the back of the man. She happily imagined the symbolic gesture, her new husband would spin around and their eyes would meet once and forever.
She lit up in anticipation of her groom waiting anxiously for his bride to meet him at their stairway.
Betsy noticed it first, the quick way he turned away, something wasn’t right. She wanted to yell to him and Bethany, ‘wait!’ ’Something is wrong!’ But how could it be?  How could this day be tainted with sorrow? How could these stairs represent grief? They were here to change the perspective of their lives. This wedding was the family reuniting in front of God and His church, believing that the happiness of their love for each other would surpass the bonds of death and light the family’s way forward. “Brian”, she whispered to herself, “please don’t leave us.” She looked again, and saw his shoulders stoop in pain. Something was wrong. “Something is wrong!” She tried to scream to Bethany, her mom suddenly crying behind her, sobs shuddering her entire body. No sound escaped her lungs, she stood paralyzed, waiting for her sister to find out that today was not their day.
Bethany took another step down the stairs.
‘Click!’ He heard her step. ‘Click’ another, ‘she’s so close’ he thought. ‘I’ve never wanted anything more in my life!’ ‘Click’ ‘Click’ the steps were gaining in speed as she anticipated coming closer to him, but his mind was barely able to contain the explosion of pain he felt in his heart. He crossed his arms tight across his chest, begging the pain to stop, “hold off today please” he begged internally. Closing his eyes, they filled with the emotional pain he was trying to stave off. “Please Lord” he almost spoke it audibly “It’s our turn!”
The time seemed to pass slowly for the land, home, and gravel street.  The wind had slowed down, but with the cold replacing the rain, there was now the building of a layer of cold ice sheets on the limbs, branches, shingles, and driveway.  The ice gathered strength in each droplet of rain. From a far the picture looked serene, even beautiful, but upclose the danger increased, and no one watching this scene knew how the heavily weighted tree would survive the onslaught against its tired root system. The oak was nearing the end, everything and everyone in its path were now hanging in the balance.
She descended into the same floor where he was. The sky outside was churning, as though hell was trying to force it’s way into the gleaming white building. She  thought there was a problem when she saw him fold his arms, a lack of control, or possibly that his timing was off? Was his leg shaking? “Brian” she said as she stepped on off the stairs and could almost reach out and touch his form. “Brian!” she called louder.
He turned back to her, finally showing her a face wincing in severe pain, desperately trying to hold form for the one person he couldn’t live without.  “Bethany” he said in a slightly weezy breath, “Bethany I love you, the pain, my chest, I’m so sorry.” “Brian!” She shrieked and almost leapt the last step as his balance started to waver.”
The branch had shaded this house for 45 years, silently protecting it while slowly building up a small sore of dry rot, nothing dangerous at first, but mixed with wind, and ice turns deadly to a tree that can’t feed its limbs. The silent ice fell and built up while causing the weekest member to droop ever so silently toward the room on the second floor.
It was Betsy that watched in speechless horror as Brian collapsed into Bethany’s arms.  His breath coming in slow rasps, eyes tearing up in pain as his heart struggled to pump blood through a strangled artery.
 “Bethany”, he grasped at each word “I so wanted to marry you today” he choked a bit as her perfect face melted in an avalanche of tears. “The stress of these last 2 years, helping your mom, I” he hesitated, “I wanted to live with you forever.” “No,” she said, “No, you’ll be fine. Everything will be fine! Someone call 911 she bawled, Brian! Stay with me! Help help, OH GOD WHY!” “I desperately wanted to tell you I do” he said. “That night your dad died ripped us apart, it took me too, but don’t let it take you.” He sighed quietly at that, his eyes tilted up and away from her.  She screamed then, a cold chilling “Noooooo,” that turned to sobs as she kissed and held the lifeless form of her near husband on the floor. The very floor of the church where her mom buried her father 2 years before.
The sleeping woman suddenly woke, “Brian” she screamed, weakly, but audibly into the churning night. The form around her wasn’t Brian, but she felt the warmth of it. Her entire body lost its rigidity and a slow smile crept over her weekend face. It was at that point her eyes widened and softened as she silently said “after all these years.”
The sound of the cracking limb was audible to the home occupant, but silent all around.  The weight of the tree crushed the room and house like a knife cutting wet paper. The shear weight and force of the mass took out everything yet the light grew around the teeny form, the ice, melted, the tree shorn off as if white lighting struck a form slightly larger than the wooden bed where she slept those 70 years. The light was blinding to her, she found her strength awakening, while the blinding gave way to a gilded passageway adorning a set of very familiar double doors.
The rain and ice continued unabated for hours after, filling in the cracks and new voids now open due to the destruction of the home.
Bethany stood on her own two feet then, the sounds of wind and rain fading. The doors, so familiar yet so far. She started walking. The floor took on a grainy hue, and unbeknownst to her the ancient night clothes started to mold her body as her skin tightened around a once withered frame. Her hands plumped with youngness and moisture. Her feet once withered and racked with pain, grew stronger with each step. Her back, bent from years of sitting, straightened. She kept walking. The nightclothes now started spinning openings and designs, once fluid began to web themselves into satin and lace. Her withered breasts plumped and took the form once familiar those so many years ago. The train behind her grew, the flawless floor worked with her steps and she walked toward the doors.
Betsy struggled to walk through the old house, following the police officer to what was left of the old bedroom.  Her gnarled hands grasped the railing leading upstairs as her unstable steps were even more challenging due to the melting ice everywhere.  The police had been there for a while, and had hesitated to call her once they entered the bedroom.  “The most curious thing ma’am” the officer said.  “The tree burst through your sisters’ room at a high rate of speed, easy to see by the shape of this house. The ice must have been falling for hours.”
Betsy finally made it to the landing after struggling up the steps.  The floor was mostly caved in. All the earthly possessions of Bethany appeared to be destroyed.  The walls were bare, or were populated with stalactites of ice built up on hanging frames.  The old dresser, was a floor below smashed to total bits.  The entire room was demolished, But, she let out a gasp of shock when she finally made her way into what was left of the doorway.
Looking down at her feet she saw she was standing again at the edge of the same staircase. Her hands foreign to her, luscious and young. Once again beautiful and perfect. Skin once again tight and beautiful around her wrist. She looked over at herself, the picture of radiant beauty the feelings of excitement all coming back from those many many years ago.  The air was wispy and light, and her breath felt strong in her chest as she took a look down the ancient steps and gasped at who was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairway.
The bed was encased in ice, the sheets and blankets left in perfect form below the thin veneer, the pillows left shaped as though a single head was lying on them.  The four posts of the bed colored dark oak magestically showed their beauty though they too were encased under multiple inches of ice. Upon the bed laid a figure, not human, but details beyond perfect. The shape, the hands, and even the hair was indisputably those of Bethany, as if she laid down to sleep while allowing a master artisan to cut a form equal to her own. None of these details mattered to Betsy, because the form in the bed was an ice sculpture, clearly built from the body of her sister, but her sister was not apart of the crystallized form.  Bethany was gone.
“Have you ever seen anything like this before? The officer asked, “we have people already scouring the neighborhood to find your sister, though it’s a bit slow going due to all the ice.” Bethany took a while to answer, but slowly started to tell the officer that the search wouldn’t be needed.
There he was, standing there in his baby blue tux, all the youth and expectation of all those many years ago. She saw him turn toward her after she caught her breath at seeing him. “There you are.” He said, “I’ve been waiting for this day all my life, and it’s finally here.” “Brian, she said, as she ran down the stairs. Brian!” Although it felt like they were floating, she grabbed hold of him and they hugged and kissed for what felt like an eternity.
“You came back for me” she said as he let go of her lips for a moment. “I wanted to live with you forever”, he said “I just had to wait for you to come back to me.” They embraced and kissed again as the immaculate beauty of the place they stood made itself aware to both of them.
He looked at her after pulling away from her lengthy embrace, and pulled away for the smallest second, her lips still tasted like him and her eyes widened in panic for the slightest second. “Wait” he said, and his hand went into his breast pocket and pulled out their wedding bands. He took her hand, and slid the band over her glistening pearl nails onto her small waiting finger. After adding his band to his hand he looked back up to her with a laughing, healthy smile, and in pure joy he leaned over into her ear and said “I do.”

 

Photo Credit: lundress.com

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The Salutation

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Watching it all happen wasn’t a surprise, but it was painful, knowing what I knew.
She sat at her desk quietly working, he walked in and started toward her desk. She looked up slowly, caught his eye, and quickly said ‘hi’. He looked her way, responded in the same and continued on past her walking toward his desk.  The constant talking, friendship, texting words, hopes, dreams over the previous six months all hewn down into two small words.
It crushed her, and he was eternally angry, but none of that mattered anymore and they both continued on with their lives as if the other was never a part nor were they ever.
Morgan Werhen Copyright 2018
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Once and For All

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She smells like lilacs in the spring, where the fragrance over takes all the surrounding flowers and tickles the nose.
We were hugging now, the photo shoot almost over, but our lives together almost beginning.

He held on to me as I sank into his embrace.  Bending my arms and body into his chest allowing myself to lean into, almost feels like crawling inside him.  The warmth is intoxicating, his breath on my hair, my lips held off his chest but only to protect from the deep red glossing my lips.

Her earrings adorn her ears, and her hair is soft to my touch.  She nestles against me and lets me close my arms around her small waist. I can see her eyes smiling, she looks up at me and then softly closes her eyes as she relaxes against me.

“What am I going to do with him?” she thinks, this life of ours is about to begin, we were once just two people and now he and I together.

“How did I ever get her to say ‘Yes’” he wonders, though finding the beauty of her dress distracting as his eyes trace the buttons down her back, where the bustled skirt is straining against the captor holding it alight.

The photographer clicks a few more shots though without words as the two stand there together but one soul waiting to walk down the aisle and vow their forever love once and for all.

Image Credit: hellomuse.com

In Pieces

I remember being a whole. I was proper and genuine a real joy to be with.
My face was mostly smiling, or working toward a smile.
My hands flitted and fluttered about working ahead of my conversations including all the light words escaping with light wisps of delight.
I remember being a whole woman. I was alabaster and red mixed with blush. My dresses swished and my tops flowed. I wondered about as I flowed down the street. The pedigree of my me which populated my personality and it exuded around me without the need to say a thing.
I remember loving who I was.

elitedaily_girl_crying_in_bed_6-13-2018I remember loving the thought of love and knowing what that would feel like.

I remember being a whole.
I remember meeting you.
You relished me mostly but desired some change.
Too much color but not enough thread to make your version of my art.
Let’s not do this, but start changing that.
The parts of me you liked but tweaked and over time some over bending
caused parts of me to break.
I remember together, and starting to question if I was enough.
I remember being. I remember our us. I remember feeling, but realizing that your feelings weren’t the same.
I remember trying to fix me so your picture was right.
I remember  wondering why I needed to fix me when we were together.  The list of my wrongs was growing, as I tried harder to keep up with your demands. You seemed perfect, or so you thought. Your answers required my changes.
I remember bending, I remember breaking.
The requests and frustrations seemed to build, the weight continued to hold me down.
The pieces of me slowly faded from color to slate, possibly gray, but largely not recognizable as to what was there before.
The smiles and laughter seemed like faded memories, flowers closed petals fallen.
The swagger and smiles removed. Slow steps, muddy tracks, slodden, downtrodden a personality once floating, now unable to find a place to land.
The person I was replaced by me now.
I remember that I stopped remembering.
This morning I turned over and reached out to you in our bed, the stable piece of our land where silence ruled and where I remembered who we were, or what I wished we were to be when we were new.
I remember you not being there.
I remember being something, but nothing was left to make peace with, there was no ‘me’ anymore.
I couldn’t remember, I didn’t know. The piece left wasn’t me at all.
Image Credit: elitedaily.com
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Morgan Werhen
Copyright 2018

 

He Freed Me From the Constraints of my Heart

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He freed me from the constraints of my heart.
He took me from the isolation of my soul.
He removed me from the closet of my past.
He carried me from the danger of my youth.
He loved me with the fire of my emotions.
He needed me with the lust of my desire
He adored me with love of my mother.
He protected me with the strength of my father.
He left me with the hole from my adolescence.
He wounded me with weapon of loneliness.
He was taken from me with the speed of life.
I’m broken without him.
I’m desperate for him
I’m walking away from him.
“As the Lord Giveth, He also taketh away”
I left the cemetery with a heavy heart and a demolished soul.
Image Credit: theweddingscoop.com

Is He a Something Or Am I a Nothing

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I sat in bed eyes wide open. The fairy dust of sleep not penetrating my mind enough. At least not enough to turn itself off.
The idea that there is someone I can’t possibly have. He’s so fun. He gets me. He writes back.
The relationship isn’t,  but sometimes I wonder.
The humor is constant but is it simply that?
He loves my music. Nothing more, nothing less,  but he constantly asks.
He notices things, though he notices things for everyone,  though it seems. No,  but yet it seems he notices more things about me.
I messed up once. His response totally expected, but, and this is what keeps me up. His response wasn’t negative, but he said, that the idea didn’t make sense. The funny part,  I asked because I’d love our company to take us both on a trip, he would be the fun one to travel with. But, he didn’t dispute that he wouldn’t enjoy said trip with me, just that it doesn’t make sense for him to go. Is he worried about the company I provide? Does it matter that I’m the one who suggested it? Or is it simply a case of a company man doing his thing for the man.
It’s just.
I don’t know.
When he’s around I do everything I can to hang with him. He’s so much fun, but it seems sometimes he’s not sure if he’s allowing to much access? It’s those fun times where I feel him pull back, or suddenly worry what isn’t getting done and he ferries himself back off to his desk.
Is there something there?
Do I want there to be?
The constant thoughts and occasional teeny slips could mean yes. It could mean. Yes.
I may be falling for the man I can’t have.
I may be in love, or just lust? I may be in desire and wanting a man I cannot have. I may be.
I am.
If only. If only he wasn’t under the spell of someone else.
Image Credit: pinterest.com

Why So Harsh, Why ( most ) Men Suck

Waking up in the morning can be a bitter pill.  Some days I wake up and look forward to the happiness of the day, but today everything sucks.

I hate that my hair seems to default to frizzy and broken.

I hate that my stomach has more fat this year than last year.

I hate that my ears are too big.

I hate that my face seems to break out when I’m stressed, or sad, or too hot.

I hate that I live alone.

I hate that my friends keep finding their ‘soulmate’.

I hate that all the clothes in my closet are horrible and I have nothing to wear!!!

I hate that I don’t have a boyfriend.

I hate that a number of months ago I thought I had a boyfriend but he wasn’t interested in the long term. Or was he just not interested? Or was I not interesting? Was I not pretty enough? Was I not funny enough? Do my knees look funny? Was I too prudish? WHAT WAS IT?

I hate that though I wasn’t in love, (yet?)

pinterest_girl_crying_black_whiteThat there were real possibilities. Or was it that there never was a possibility, and looking back why was I thinking there was?

I hate that I believe in marriage, but none of the boys ( yes boys ) have any reason to marry because all of us ‘normal’ girls are so desperate to find someone ( anyone ) that we end up doing and giving up our values and beliefs just to have someone near us.

 

 

I hate that this morning I have to get up, preen myself ( boys call them the 3 s’s ) do my hair, paint my nails, wear something presentable just so I get noticed.

BUT WAIT! WAIT YOU SAY! You don’t have to do that!!!!

I KNOW! I answer back.  I so so know.  Buuuuuuuut if I don’t, if I fall out of bed, leave my jammies on and plod around the house in my slippers, if I leave that broken nail broken, don’t hide my ugly toenails, wear the ugly closed foot sandals, or worse, wear the cute open toed strappy sandals, with the sloppy shorts and old t shirt, I find that the boys I attract are worse than the ones I was dating in the first place.

 

WHAT DO I DO????

I’m not horrible looking, but I’m not perfect.  I look at all the insta posts about blah blah get a new body blah blah. You’ll be happier blah blah blah!!! I even post on instagram ( shameless plug instagram.com/morganwerhen ) mostly with beautiful pictures, largely with happy women and/or brides. I find that men pictures are mostly too hulky or ‘look at me I’m Goliath and I can eat 5 steaks a day!’, or they’re so into themselves that I can’t possibly relate or want to relate. I DON’T NEED A GOLIATH, I JUST NEED SOMEONE.

 

I used to be pretty confident in myself, I was dating frequently, but as I turn the corner into my 30s I’m finding that I just want a man who loves me for who I am. Who will hold me when I’m sad, laugh with me, and largely someone I can get along with.  Is that so much to ask?

WHERE ARE YOU MAN????

Currently I don’t believe that man exists.  If he does or if I think I meet him, he definitely wants inside my panties, and he isn’t interested in commitment. Or he is interested in commitment but first lets get into my panties and then we can talk about the holding. I’m not sure if it’s me or society or it’s just that I’m not worth the time?

Last night I cried about it. This morning I’m plodding around my apartment in an old t-shirt.

Tonight I’ll preen and hang out with girlfriends and hopefully I’ll feel better.

~Morgan

Image Credit: Pinterest

Who Is This Person Staring Back at Me?

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My eyes opened suddenly, a rush of emotions and panic flooding my mind.  “Who am I” I thought.  “Where am I?” Laying on the bed I turned my head to attempt to look at my surroundings.  The room was dark, it smelled slightly musty but I smelled a floral scent mixed in with slightly damp, and cold feelings.  I moved my arms and legs, they felt different, like they haven’t been moved in while, but they all responded as if everything was fine.  I sat up, but felt a little stiff and slow.  There were a couple of windows in the room, they seemed large, but with hardly any light in the room I was struggling to see what or where I was.
Where was I? I felt calm, the panic was replaced by a feeling of excitement, but I didn’t know why?  I remembered going to bed at some point wearing my yellow sun dress, with a white hairpiece holding back my hair..  I remembered running in the grass with my friends as we would ride our bikes around a neighborhood?  The thoughts and memories started to flood in.  I was 12.  It was summer. The light wind would play with my brunette bob and blow it around my face, always forcing me to wrap the stray strands behind my right ear.  My mom always getting after me about picking up my dolls. My white strappy sandals left in the middle of room.
The light was starting to peak into the windows around the heavy blinds. I decided to try to stand up.  It went fine but I was surprised to feel hair falling at my back.  I habitually moved my hand to place it behind my ear. What? It cascades down my back? I grabbed hold of it. It was full of ‘body?’ why did I know that term? It smelled floral, like lilacs in the summer just before their peak. “Why is my hair so long?” I kept walking toward the window, slightly shocked that walking in a sundress would feel so constricting. Still reeling from these mixture of sensations that felt both new and familiar at the same time.
His name was Jordan. I remember a Jordan. That day, “why do I remember that day?” the sun was bright, shining through the small oak in our yard causing the shadows to dance on the house.  He lived across the street from us, though I remember it was a street where cars went back an forth. I remember standing at the curb and we were yelling back and forth about something. He was in a light blue t-shirt with muddy shorts.  His ‘race’ bike with the orange handle grips sitting next to him tossed on the ground, the kickstand shoving up a mound of grass and dirt next to it. “You have to come over today!” He was yelling.  “I can’t!” I yelled back.  The sun was hot, I could see he was sweating a little, his two front teeth gleaming as he moved his mouth.  “Why couldn’t I come over?” I asked my self?
Whoa!! I almost tripped on something on the floor. “What is that?” I felt something sliding next to me. The excitement also seemed to make me breathe harder.  Something is restricting my chest? “What??” I stop. “Just stand here, calm down” I think, that decision causes me to start relaxing a bit.  I was almost to the windows, for some reason it felt like opening the shade would allow me to understand why nothing makes sense.  I start to explore who or “what” I am. I immediately realize that I must be a woman, no longer 12, long long past. I feel below my waist and my breath heaves in a panic, but an excited twirl of happiness.  My pajamas seem to not be pajamas. I take both hands, and lean down at the waist. and it seems I have a dress on with a skirt full of luxuriant “where did that word come from” ruffles.  They cascade and follow my body well past my legs and around the floor.  This new body of mine is so confusing, but it feels like “me.”
Jordan kept yelling but the cars were too loud, the wind seemed to pick up and I remember the day feeling darker. I instinctively remember fixing my hair behind my ear, but there was a sound, a loud screeching sound.  Everything slows down in that moment, but I remember turning my head toward the noise.
I steadied myself in the room, the sun continued to push more of it’s yellow light through the windows. It was time to finish this slow walk and see where I was. Moving toward the windows again, taking daintier steps, I heard my dress swish and swirl as my legs bumped against the skirt. At the windows I could see two of them had blinds, the type I remember were in my room, wide wood slats that would pivot to hide the light, forcing streams to pour in at the edges. However, the middle window was different. It seemed to hold something smooth, or attached to the window. There was a little light, but it was forced only at the square edges of the window. The beams shot out like a line, almost a sign with no backlighting for the words that would be seen if the light could shine through.  I reached the wall, I felt what appeared to be cold brick, but the warmth from the other side was apparent. I moved my hand along the surface of the wall where the light could penetrate enough for my eyes to see my hand.  Whoa, again, my heart quickened! Fingers so long, rounded nails, perfectly manicured with a light pink detail. The sun danced off my nails as they shimmered. Then it caught my eye. I gasped! On my finger sat a ring with a diamond.
The sound was deafening! The wreck caused one vehicle start coming my way. I sat there frozen as a hunk of steel was rolling toward the curb, I could see the panic in the drivers eyes, mouth wide, words streaming out but I couldn’t hear. I did hear something, or wait, someone screaming. “Judith!!! Judith run! RUN!” It was Jordan.  He was screaming to run, but where? I turned away from the driver barreling toward me and tried to move my legs.  It was like they were filled with lead, like a dream where I was running out of a classroom realizing I forgot to put on pants, but I couldn’t move.  “I’m coming!” He yelled, I couldn’t see him, but his voice kept getting closer. I tried desperately to run but my legs were stuck, the car was still screeching towards me, and now I could smell burning rubber and smoke.
Something hit me. I remember that. But, it hit me from the side. Arms wrapped around me and I was “tackled?” I remember falling, fast, smacking my head, but there was a rush behind me, as dirt and grass and flying debris hit me and Jordan? “Jordan!” “Jordan tackled me and shoved me away!”
I sat there desperately trying to remember more.  I remember my room, noises, people surrounding me, I remember being carried, I remember hearing a siren.  I remember hearing words about Jordan, that he wasn’t answering, they were panicked. I remember closing my eyes. Nothing after that.
That foreign hand, with the large cut diamond moved over to pull up the blind. “It’s time to meet me” I think, “Judith is my name I believe, who is Judith and why does she have a ring on her hand?” I pulled up the blind and light streamed in, I quickly walked across the middle window and pulled up the other blind. The light instantly filled the room and my eyes blinked while attempting to adjust. There definitely was something on the center mirror, it appeared to be writing. I blinked again and gasped as I saw this room for the first time. Though, it felt familiar in a way, like I’ve been here before.
The bed I was in stood alone, but there was a framed photo of Jordan an I by the nightstand, I was in the yellow sundress, and he was just smiling at me. The sheets were white, but there were yellow notes posted everywhere. I couldn’t read them, but they had an order, and appeared slightly tattered, or well used. Turning toward the center window I saw what was pasted in the window. There attached somewhat permanently was a giant letter starting with the words  “Your name is Judith Winters, on July 24th 13 years ago you hit your head but you were saved from death my Jordan Reetherin. You need to read the letter by the mirror next to you to catch up on what has happened to you so you can move forward with your life from this morning on.
The feelings of panic started again, “I couldn’t remember anything since that accident! I’m standing here a woman and I have to re learn who I am.  I have a ring.” I turned toward the mirror and at that point is the first ( or thousandth ) time I met me.  I had long brunette hair, floating past my shoulders, I was wearing makeup, light pink lipstick and earrings adorned my ears. I was thin, but not gaunt, I had the body of a woman but only memories of a child. The person staring back at me was familiar with her body, but the mind was trying to wrap that fact with missing memories.  Who is this person staring back at me? The dress was gorgeous, my shoulder blades heaved in anticipation and fear as I removed the envelope from the far left of the mirror.  I opened the flap and removed the new letter, folded three times. It was long, very detailed, and hand written in a mans handwriting.
Dear Judith,
This is Jordan.  I love you, and today is our Wedding Day.
Image Credit: gabbytaangeles.tumblr.com

All of These are Important

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To love is to be alive
To be loved is to live
To care is to abundantly provide without expectation in return
To be cared for is humbling while desiring to return the same
To need is human
To be needed is fulfillment and care and love
Separate these all matter, but together they create
a life everyone desires.
Love, care, need, help, do, be. Live abundantly!
Image Credit: gabytaangeles.tumblr.com

I Love Paris!

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The sun is up and the morning has shown her beautiful face.
I dress for the day as the light breeze floats through the window.
The blossoms launder the room with their fragrance and their
shadows dance on my face, and bed while they move about in
between the sun and shadow.
I smell Parisian coffee from the cafe’ below my window.
I hear small silver clinking and spreading the luscious tasties on
warm delicious breakfast morsels.
The day is glorious and I get to spend it HERE!
The morning beckons and I push my door open to see this
beautiful city Paris!